


it swings, it jives

by thewalrus_said



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Adam's Antichrist Powers, Five years post-canon, Kids Being Good About Trans Issues, Multi, Other, Polyamory, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:20:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22534615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewalrus_said/pseuds/thewalrus_said
Summary: Five years after the Apocalypse-That-Wasn't, two boys find their way back into Aziraphale and Crowley's (and each other's) lives.(Or, reunions, Queen, and that tingly feeling in your stomach when you look at him.)
Relationships: Adam Young/Warlock Dowling/Jeremy Wensleydale, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 116
Collections: Good Omens Big Bang 2019





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> This is my Good Omens Big Bang fic! Art by the lovely ohstars. It's fully written, and will update every day. Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by the lovely ohstars!

“Nanny Ashtoreth?”

Crowley turned, and yep, there was Warlock all right, staring at him like he’d seen a ghost.

“Hello Warlock, dear,” Crowley said, and turned back to the vendor in the truck. “Best make that two cocoas.” The man passed out a second cup and Crowley handed it to Warlock. He paid and led the boy to his favorite bench, clear of snow due to the tree arching its branches out over it. Crowley sat down and, after a moment, Warlock followed suit.

“Sorry,” Warlock said, after they’d both taken fortifying sips of cocoa. “I pretty clearly shouldn’t call you that anymore. What should I call you instead?”

“Crowley’s my name these days,” Crowley said. “Anthony J.”

“Crowley,” Warlock said, trying it out. “I like that, it suits you.”

“Thank you,” Crowley said, oddly touched. “I thought so too, when I first picked it. So how’ve you been? You must be, what, sixteen now?”

Warlock nodded. “Yes, I’m sixteen. And I’ve been well enough, I guess. We just got back from a month in Wales, that was nice.”

“Oh, I like Wales,” Crowley said. “Lots of sheep, lovely country.” Warlock nodded again. “So what brings you into the city?”

“Christmas shopping,” Warlock said. “Father wants a new watch, not the kind you can get online. He doesn’t trust online retailers.”

Crowley nodded. That sounded like Thaddeus, all right. The man was stuck in the twentieth century. On a lot of things. “No luck yet?” Warlock looked surprised. “No shopping bags.”

Warlock shook his head. “Nothing yet. But I’ve got a few more shops on my list to look at.”

Crowley took another sip of cocoa and blinked, with a little more weight to it than a normal blink. “Bet you find it at the next one.”

“You think?”

“Yep. Bet anything.”

“Bet you a tenner,” Warlock said, and Crowley grinned. Bet You A Tenner had been one of Warlock’s favorite games when he was... seven, was it? Crowley would make an assertion, Warlock would decry it, and they would bet. Crowley lost more than he won; Warlock had a good eye for a bluff, even so young.

“Deal.” Crowley stuck out his hand and Warlock shook it, a small smile spreading across his mouth too.

The conversation subsided, and they drank their cocoa in relative silence. The park was beautiful, a light dusting of snow on the paths and heavier piles on the lawns, and there were a good amount of people moving about, hustling along or strolling more sedately, bags of shopping in their hands or phones pressed to their ears.

Warlock drained his cup. “I didn’t mean to keep you from your business,” he said. “I just wanted to say hello.”

“It was wonderful to see you, Warlock,” Crowley said, and he meant it. Warlock blushed a little.

“Are you on Facebook?”

“Oh, yeah,” Crowley said, and grinned again. “Love Facebook. Did you know I helped code it?”

“Right,” Warlock said. “Like you invented the five-paragraph essay? And selfies?”

“All true,” Crowley said. “I’ve never once lied to you, Warlock.”

“Everybody lies,” Warlock muttered, and then, more loudly, “I’ll friend you on Facebook, if that’s alright?”

“Please do,” Crowley said. “Good luck shopping.”

“Bye,” Warlock said, and with a wave, he was off. Crowley finished his cocoa, tossed the cup in a nearby trash can, and set off for where he’d parked the Bentley.

Half an hour later, as Crowley was speeding down the road out of London, his phone buzzed. Crowley looked away from the road to check it; he had a new friend request from Warlock Dowling, and a message: _You win,_ with a picture of a _very_ expensive-looking watch. Crowley grinned, accepted the friend request, and looked back at the road just in time to swerve around a broken-down car on the shoulder.

——

Aziraphale had discreetly slipped Adam his office phone number before they had all parted ways after the Apocalypse That Wasn’t, but he wasn’t surprised that when the call finally came, it was to his home line. He still had the office number, despite the move; it rang to the phone in the library now. But when Adam called, it came only to the phone in the kitchen, where Aziraphale was rinsing a sieve of beans for the slow cooker.

“Hello?” Aziraphale said. He’d been rather against the idea of a cordless landline, but Crowley _had_ insisted, and it was a bit useful while his hands were full. The phone pinned between his ear and shoulder, Aziraphale set the beans aside and went about chopping the peppers.

“Hello,” Adam said. His voice was deeper now than it had been the last time they’d spoken, but it was still unmistakably him. “Is this a bad time?”

“Not at all, my dear boy. How have you been?” Aziraphale knew the broad strokes of Adam’s life over the past five years, of course, having deemed it prudent to keep an eye on the _actual_ Antichrist now that he knew who it really was, but it was polite to ask anyway.

“I’ve been okay,” Adam said. “I had a question, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course.”

“Well, it’s just, Mum’s been on a church kick the last few years, and she’s been on me to go with her, so last week I finally went, just to see what all the fuss was about, and the pastor said that God loves everybody.”

Aziraphale brushed the peppers into a bowl and went to work on the onion. “That’s true.”

“Even me?”

“My dear boy, why should God _not_ love you?”

“Well, _you_ know,” Adam said deliberately. “Because of, well, _what I am,_ and all that.”

“Ah,” Aziraphale said. “Well, I’m not high enough in the hierarchy to have a direct line to God. You’d need the Metatron for that. But I have had my dealings with Her over the years, and the simple fact is that someone being the son of, well, _you know,_ isn’t enough to make Her not love them.”

“Oh,” Adam said. “You’re sure?”

“As sure as I can be. Which is a good deal more sure than any human could be.”

“Okay. That’s good, I guess.” There was a pause. “And if God loves me even though I’m the, um, He—She, sorry, probably wouldn’t stop loving me for other reasons? That’s kind of the worst thing, after all.”

“God doesn’t mind what pronouns you use, Adam. And no, I can’t imagine anything you could have done that would stop Her loving you.” Now it was Aziraphale’s turn to pause, as he considered how to phrase things. He set the knife down and wandered into the living room. “Was there anything in particular you had in mind?”

“Well, _no,_ not _really._ Just stuff like, if I maybe stole something, or maybe—maybe if I were, like, queer or something.”

Ah. “Well, for the first, you’d still have Her love, and you’d have Her forgiveness too as long as you repented. As for the latter, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that, you know, and it would have absolutely no impact on how much God values and cherishes you.”

“Oh. Okay.” Adam’s voice sounded a little thicker now. Aziraphale decided not to notice. “That makes sense. Thanks.”

“Of course, dear boy.”

“Right, okay,” Adam went on, with an admirable stab at cheerfulness. “That was all I wanted to know. Thank you.”

“Any time, Adam.”

“I’ll let you get back to what you were doing. Thanks. Bye.” He hung up before Aziraphale could say anything back.

Aziraphale heard the road of the Bentley drive up and went back into the kitchen to assemble the beans in the slow cooker. Crowley came in after a few minutes and gave Aziraphale a slow, thorough kiss in greeting. “How was your day, angel?”

“Lovely, but for missing you,” Aziraphale said, just to see that gorgeous blush stain Crowley’s cheeks. “You’ll never guess whom I just got off the phone with.”

“Who?”

“Adam Young.”

 _“Really,”_ Crowley said. “First Warlock, now Adam. We’ll have the third baby back in our lives before long, at this rate.”

“Poor dear, he wanted to know if the Almighty would still love him if he were queer.”

Crowley frowned. “Poor kid. Antichrist _and_ queer? God sure dealt him a hand. You reassure him?”

“I did my best, but these blasted pastors will go on.” Aziraphale put the lid on the slow cooker and turned it on. “There. We’ll have beans in the morning.”

As he turned to put the cutting board and knife in the sink, Crowley intercepted him and drew him closer. He got one hand around the back of Aziraphale’s head and pulled him into another deep kiss. His tongue swept across Aziraphale’s lips and into his mouth with something that sparkled like holiness, but a little bit darker. Aziraphale purred and clutched him tighter. “What was that for?” he asked, once Crowley relinquished his mouth for a moment.

“Love you,” Crowley said. “Wanted to snog you.”

“I love you too, my dearest,” Aziraphale said. He placed a little kiss at the corner of Crowley’s mouth, and one on the nearest flushed cheek, and another to his temple. “More than anything on this Earth.”

Crowley sighed. “I suppose I must get used to coming second to God.”

Aziraphale bit his lip. “I love you equal to God,” he confessed. “You _are_ God, a piece of Her made just for me. I see Her in you, and my love for Her is swept up in my love for you. I’m not sure they’re separate loves, at this point.”

Crowley’s irises dilated until the whites were all but gone. His mouth dropped open slightly, and his breath sounded a bit ragged. Aziraphale took advantage of the moment to slip his tongue back between those parted lips, to wrap an arm around Crowley’s back and push a hand into his hair. Crowley clutched him close, kissed him back, and Aziraphale’s mind drifted to a close in his arms.

——

AC: how’d he like it?

WD: said it was perfect, ruffled my hair

WD: i spent an hour on my hair for the family photograph

AC: :/

AC: how long are you off school?

WD: another week, why?

AC: fancy coming to the south downs for a visit?

WD: you live in the south downs now? i can’t picture that

AC: my partner fancied country living, so. it’s fine. lotta bugs to crush beneath your shoe

WD: heh

WD: i just asked mum and she said i can come if i bring a member of security with me. that okay?

AC: that’s fine! this weekend?

WD: sounds good. see you soon

WD: mum says hello, by the way

AC: my best to harriet


	2. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A visit to the South Downs, a Queen documentary, and another phone call.

Warlock brought the car to a halt in the driveway and turned to Brad. “Not bad, right?”

“Not bad at all, sir,” Brad said, unbuckling his seatbelt. “You’ll be a better driver than your father at this rate.”

“That’s not hard,” Warlock said. “I look at the road, for a start.”

“Best for everyone he usually has a driver,” Brad agreed. He peered out the front window at the cottage in front of them. “So this is where your old nanny lives?”

“I can’t really picture him in a cottage,” Warlock admitted, “but he says he likes it. Come on, let’s go.”

The back door opened before they got too far from the car, and Crowley came out. “Hey, Warlock!” he called. “Hello, Secret Service grunt.”

“This is Brad,” Warlock said. “Brad, this is Crowley.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Brad said, shaking hands. “Mind if I do a quick perimeter of the house?”

“We’ll wait here,” Crowley said. Brad nodded and trotted off around the side of the cottage. “Safe trip?”

“Brad let me drive most of it,” Warlock said. “He says I did well.”

“You always were desperate to drive the tractor,” Crowley said. “Makes sense you’d take to cars easily enough. How’ve you been? How was your New Year’s?”

“Fine,” Warlock said. “Mum and Father threw a party. They let me stay up and try some champagne.” Crowley gave him a look that said both that that was nice of them, and that he didn’t believe for a second it was Warlock’s first taste of alcohol. Warlock laughed.

At that point Brad came back, and Crowley gestured at the back door. “Shall we?" Warlock nodded and Crowley let them to it and held it open.

It opened into a spacious kitchen, where a man in a neat white suit was busily kneading bread dough. He looked up and beamed at them all when they entered. “Warlock, you remember Brother Francis?” Crowley said, toeing off his shoes at the mat by the door.

Warlock followed suit and squinted at the dough-kneader. Yes, he  _ did _ look like Brother Francis, he decided. After a round or three of some serious dental work. “Hello,” he said.

“Hello, Warlock dear,” the man said warmly. “So lovely to see you again. And you can call me Aziraphale now.”

“Aziraphale,” Warlock said, trying it out. “Alright. Your voice has changed.” He looked at Crowley. “Both of you.”

“Lot’s changed, kid,” Crowley said, and winked at him. Warlock smiled back. “Now. Can I get you both anything to drink? Warlock did the driving,” he said to Aziraphale, crossing behind him to a cabinet. “Thirsty work, driving.”

“Well, it is the way you do it, my dear,” Aziraphale said. “I’m not sure if that’s the norm.”

Crowley shrugged and looked back at Warlock, who said, “Just water for me, please.”

“Water for the driver. Brad?”

“Nothing, thanks. It’s alright if I leave my shoes on?”

“Of course,” Aziraphale said. He looked down at the dough, gave it one final shove across the counter, and said, “I think that should do nicely.” There was a bowl at the edge of the counter, and he dropped the dough in and covered it with cling film. “An hour to prove, and then I’ll add the nuts.”

“He’s been watching the Great British Bake-Off,” Crowley stage whispered.

Without looking at him, Aziraphale stretched out an arm and put his doughy hand right on the lapel of Crowley’s suit. “I’ve been baking bread for far longer that some of the people on that show have been alive, my dear, and well you know it.”

_ “Angel,” _ Crowley said, aghast. “You’re doing the laundry for this.” He flicked his eyes towards Warlock in a curious way, almost as if he’d meant to say something else and caught himself. Grown-up secrets, Warlock thought, and chuckled to himself. It was nice to see they still bickered, after all these years and new names and voices. Some things never changed.

Aziraphale moved to the sink and Crowley beckoned Warlock and Brad to follow him into another room. “Whoa,” Warlock couldn’t help but breathe. In the room was the largest television set he’d ever seen. It took up nearly a whole wall.

Crowley gestured towards one corner, where a stand with what appeared to be DVDs sat nestled. “Have a look, see if there’s anything you fancy.”

Warlock wandered over to the stand. “So,” he said. “You and Brother Francis, huh? I mean, Aziraphale?”

When he looked over again, Crowley was blushing, and doing a very poor job of pretending he wasn’t. “Yep.”

“That’s...”

“Surprising?” He sounded a little offended.

“I was gonna say ‘romantic,’” Warlock said. “Did you know each other before you worked for us?”

“Oh, a little bit,” Crowley said airily. “We’d met a couple of times.”

“Oh.” Warlock had to suppress a bit of disappointment at that. “Well, I’m happy for you two.”

Crowley blushed again. “Thanks, kid.”

Warlock pulled a DVD off the shelf at random. “What about this one?”

Crowley walked over and looked at it. “Queen: Day in the Life. Classic.”

“I’ve never seen it,” Warlock said.

Crowley plucked it out of his hand. “On this screen, it’ll be like you’re in the crowd yourself. Only with a better smell.”

The movie  _ was _ good. Warlock made a mental note to check out more documentaries; he’d only ever seen a few, and only on dull history topics. He remembered most of the music from rides in Nanny’s—Crowley’s car, too, which was nice. And Aziraphale came in partway through with two bowls of popcorn, handed one to Warlock, and perched himself on the sofa next to Crowley, which was kind of cute.

“Do you still have the Bentley?” he asked, once the credits were rolling.

Crowley grinned. “Course I do, you think I’d part with that car? It’s out back.”

“Cool.” Warlock hadn’t been into cars that much as a kid, but now that he was on the verge of his license he found them more of an interest. Maybe there was a documentary about cars.

Aziraphale stood up. “I think it’s about time I started getting dinner ready.”

“Can I help?” Warlock asked.

Aziraphale turned a surprised smile to him. “Of course, dear boy, if you’d like to.”

“I would,” Warlock said, surprised to find he meant it. His family’s cook never even let him sit in the kitchen and watch. “But I might not be very good at it.”

“Oh, that’s alright,” Aziraphale said, starting to lead him into the kitchen. “It’s just for us, no one will mind if your knife skills aren’t the greatest.

“Now,” he said, bending to pull a large cooking sheet out of a cupboard. “I made the noodles and the sauce yesterday, so we’ll just be reheating those, cooking the chicken, and dicing the tomatoes. The bread should be done just about now,” and a timer from the oven started beeping. Aziraphale smiled at Warlock. “Perfect. While I deal with that, could you grab the chicken from the refrigerator?”

Their fridge was absolutely packed to bursting, but Warlock managed to find a package of chicken breasts easily enough. When he turned back to Aziraphale, a gust of warm air hit his nose from the open oven. “Oh, that smells good.”

“Doesn’t it just?”

Aziraphale patiently walked Warlock through trimming the fat off the chicken, seasoning it, and partially covering it with foil, then slid the sheet into the still-warm oven. Next, Warlock filled the big pot with water and some salt, while Aziraphale poured the already-made sauce into a smaller pot. Both of those on the stove to warm, they turned their attention to the tomatoes.

Warlock had never diced a tomato in his life, but Aziraphale was a good teacher. The end results were perhaps a little ragged and uneven, but Aziraphale smiled at him and Warlock felt his heart swell a little bit all the same.

Aziraphale took over from there, chopping the chicken quickly and mixing it all together. Warlock heard a door open, and then the sounds of Brad and Crowley chatting together. “It’s a beaut of a car,” Brad said. “Looks brand-new, too.”

“I’ve kept good care of it.” They came into the kitchen just as Aziraphale was finishing up with the food. “Smells delicious, angel,” Crowley said, and leaned over for a kiss.

Warlock felt his face flush and flicked his eyes to the bowl. “Shall we eat?” Crowley asked the room at large.

The food was  _ good,  _ simpler than anything Warlock would have eaten at home but somehow tastier too, and every time he got a bite of tomato he felt a pleased little rush. The bread was crusty and delicious too, with nuts studded throughout.

“So, Warlock,” Crowley said, once the first flush of contented eating noises had passed. “How’s school?”

“School’s alright,” Warlock said. “Too much chemistry. We get physics next year, that should be cool.”

Crowley wrinkled his nose. “Never went in much for chemistry. Astronomy, that was my bag.”

“You’ll have to spend the night next time and let him show you his telescope,” Aziraphale said. “He’s very proud of it.”

“It’s a good telescope,” Crowley said, affronted. Warlock laughed.

“But school’s good, yeah?” Crowley went on, turning back to him. “You get enough time with your friends, no one’s giving you a hard time, that kind of stuff?”

“Oh,” Warlock said. He put the forkful of pasta he’d been about to eat back down. “Yeah, ‘s fine. Friends and stuff, like you said.”

“Good,” Crowley said. Warlock looked up to see Aziraphale giving him a Look, and lifted the fork back to his mouth.

Warlock made a decent play at doing the dishes after the meal was over, but Aziraphale shouted him down. “You helped with the cooking,” he said firmly. “Crowley will do the dishes, that’s his job.”

“And besides,” Brad said. “It’s getting late.”

“Of course, you’ll have to be on your way,” Aziraphale said. “I’ll show you out.”

“Goodbye, Crowley,” Warlock said, as he struggled back into his shows.

“Bye, kid,” Crowley said back, grinning at him as he stacked plates. “Nice to see you, come back anytime.”

“I will.”

Aziraphale walked them back out to the car. “You drive,” Brad said, tossing the keys to Warlock. “At least for a bit. Get some night hours in.”

“Wish me luck,” Warlock muttered to Aziraphale.

Aziraphale just gave him one of his warm smiles. “You’ll be splendid.” A breeze kicked up and made the hair on the back of his neck tickle him, sending a shiver down his spine. “Thank you for coming, Warlock dear,” Aziraphale said. “It was lovely to see you again.”

“You too.” Warlock suddenly, desperately wanted a hug. Brother Francis had always given good hugs. But that was years ago, and he wasn’t a child anymore, so instead he just waved and climbed into the car.

“Good people,” Brad remarked from the passenger seat.

“Yeah,” Warlock said. “They are.”

——

Adam called again. Aziraphale had never felt more popular. “Can I ask a personal question?” Adam asked, once the pleasantries had been exchanged.

“Of course, dear boy,” Aziraphale said. “Ask me anything.”

“You and Crowley. You’re...  _ together, _ right?”

Aziraphale considered this. “Well, not in the literal sense, he’s in the garage and I’m in the kitchen. But in the metaphorical sense, yes, we are.”

“So you’re, like. In love, and stuff?”

Aziraphale smiled to himself. “Yes, we are.”

“Were you always?”

“Well, now, that’s a very complicated question,” Aziraphale replied. “And it’s different for each of us, we both came to it in our own ways. And there’s a difference between  _ loving _ someone and  _ knowing _ you love someone, after all.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Hmm. How to explain it. Well, I fell in love with Crowley at some point, and then much later, I  _ realized _ I loved him. For him, as I understand it, those two points were much closer together in time.”

Aziraphale could almost  _ hear _ Adam’s frown. “So you’re saying I could be in love and not know it?”

“It’s possible. Not guaranteed, but possible.” Aziraphale bit his lip. There was no valor in cowardice. He pressed on. “It sounds like you may be beginning to know it, perhaps?”

“Oh, I don’t know about  _ that,” _ Adam said quickly. “It’s just, sometimes I look at Wen- at someone, and my stomach knots up and my heart beats faster. But I dunno about  _ love _ and all that.”

“Hmm,” Aziraphale said, biting down on his lip to stifle a grin. “Well, only you can define your experiences, but I’ll say that that does sound awfully like what happens to me when I look at Crowley.”

“Still?” Adam asked, sounding plaintive. “But it’s been thousands of years! It doesn’t go away?”

“It hasn’t yet.”

“Hmph,” Adam said. Then, “Can I come visit the shop?”

“Oh,” Aziraphale said, a little thrown. “Of course. You know the shop isn’t in London anymore, though? I run it out of my home in the South Downs now.”

“Okay,” Adam said. “I can take the train, right?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale said. A thought occurred to him. “I may invite someone else too, if you don’t mind. A friend of ours, someone I think you’d like.”

“Sure,” Adam said. “That’s cool.”

They settled on two weeks from the next Saturday. “Until then, dear boy.”

“Bye,” Adam said, and hung up.

Settling the phone back in the cradle, Aziraphale left the kitchen and wandered into the garage where Crowley was polishing the Bentley. “I don’t know why you don’t just miracle that clean, darling.”

Crowley kissed him. “Same reason you bake bread by hand. More satisfying that way.”

“I suppose. Adam’s coming for a visit,” Aziraphale said, resting his head on Crowley’s shoulder. “I thought we might invite Warlock too.”

“The boy doesn’t need us arranging play-dates anymore, Aziraphale.”

“You know, I’m not sure that’s true,” Aziraphale said. “You saw him when you mentioned friends, when he was over. I’ll bet anything he doesn’t have many.”

Crowley sighed, theatrical. “Alright, angel, you win. I’ll invite him.”

Aziraphale beamed and leaned up to peck him on the cheek. “Thank you, my darling.” Crowley rolled his eyes but his skin turned pink where Aziraphale had kissed it.

——

AC: hey kid, feel like coming by again? someone we want you to meet

WD: uh, sure? who?

AC: friend of ours, name of adam. your age (exactly). you’ll like him, promise

WD: sounds good, i guess


	3. three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reunion sixteen years in the making.

Adam stepped off the train and looked around for signs to the parking lot. What he saw instead was Aziraphale, standing off to the side and waving madly. “Hey,” Adam said, approaching.

“Hello, Adam,” Aziraphale said warmly, smiling up at him. “Gosh, but you’ve grown tall.”

“Yeah,” Adam said, shifting. He towered over his dad now, and wasn’t _that_ a weird feeling. Parents were supposed to be taller than their kids, he’d always felt, and things he felt that strongly about usually came true. Not this one, though. Genetics will out, and all that, he supposed. “Good to see you again.”

“You too. This way,” Aziraphale said, gesturing to the left. Adam hefted his overnight bag over one shoulder and followed him out towards a car park. “Crowley’s just at another platform picking up our other guest, should be another quarter of an hour or so.”

“Alright.” They wandered slowly through the rows of cars until they arrived at the Bentley that Adam had once so reverently restored. He hadn’t known much about cars at the time, but even then he could recognize a beauty when he saw one.

“Adam,” Aziraphale began delicately. Adam bit down a grin. “If you don’t mind my asking, and _please_ don’t think we’re anything but absolutely delighted to have you, but what prompted you to want to visit us, after all this time?”

Adam shrugged. “Dunno. Just got the sense the shop was where I wanted to be. Seemed important, so I listened.”

“Sense or, um, _sense?”_ Aziraphale asked.

“The latter,” Adam said drily.

“Ah. Well, if the shop is where you need to be, then the shop is where you shall go. I just managed to acquire an absolutely delicious new misprinted Bible, I’ll have to show you when we get there.”

“Sure,” Adam said. He’d always felt an innate revulsion around Bibles, for reasons that were obvious at least to him, but politeness was more important, or so his mum had always taught him. Besides, maybe that was what had called to him.

“Oh look, there’s Crowley and Warlock now,” Aziraphale said, perking up next to Adam and waving. Adam looked. Crowley, as lanky and irreverent as ever, was waving back, and next to him was walking a black-haired, sallow-looking boy, mid-laugh at something Crowley had said or done.

 _Nope,_ Adam’s power said. _He’s why you’re here._

Right. That complicated matters a bit.

“Hello, Adam,” Crowley said as they approached. He waved a hand at the Bentley and it unlocked; the boy _(Warlock,_ Adam’s power supplied) was looking at Adam and didn’t notice. “This is Warlock Dowling.”

“I’m Adam Young,” Adam said, sticking out his hand. Warlock took it. “We’ve met before.”

Warlock’s brow furrowed. “Have we?”

Aziraphale chuckled. “You two were born at the same hospital,” he said. “Minutes apart.”

“Huh,” Warlock said. He was still holding Adam’s hand, and seemed to realize it, dropping it with a jolt. Adam shoved the hand in his pocket.

“Well, shall we get on?” Crowley said, opening the driver door. “Pop your bags in the trunk, lads.”

It was a bit of a lengthy drive to the pair’s cottage; Aziraphale filled it with anecdotes about the people living in the village and the times Crowley had broken the speed barrier in the Bentley on the long straight roads. Adam studied Warlock as covertly as he could, which wasn’t much; Warlock kept looking over at him as well.

He wasn’t handsome, Adam decided as they pulled into Aziraphale and Crowley’s driveway, but he was _interesting-_ looking, which was better in Adam’s view. Handsome people got boring to look at after a while. Wensleydale had a sort of pinched-up face that made you wonder how he managed to convey so many of his emotions on it at once. Adam never got bored looking at Wensley.

“Lunch is ready right away,” Aziraphale said, “we stocked up on the fixings for sandwiches yesterday. How do you boys feel about beef stew for dinner? It should be ready in time, I popped it on this morning before we left.”

“Sounds great,” Adam said, getting out of the car. Warlock, mirroring him on the other side, nodded.

They had indeed stocked up, Warlock discovered. Crowley kept pulling cold cuts out of the fridge for what felt like a solid minute, and that wasn’t even getting into the cheese selections, and all of the mustards. It was possibly the best sandwich of Adam’s whole _life._

They collapsed on the sofa afterwards, rubbing their stomachs. Crowley tossed them the remote and disappeared. “Do you feel like watching anything?” Adam asked Warlock.

Warlock, eyes closed, shook his head. “I feel like taking a nap,” he said, grinning.

Adam grinned back, although Warlock couldn’t see. “Go on then, I won’t tell.”

Warlock cracked an eye at him. “No drawing on my face with Sharpie either.”

Adam held both hands up. “Scouts honor,” he said. “I wasn’t a Scout, but still. Promise.” The promise of the Antichrist was worth a great deal more than the promise of a Scout anyway, but Warlock couldn’t know that.

“Cheers,” Warlock said, the Britishism sounding strange in his resolutely American accent. He shut both eyes again and his head drooped back.

Adam put the TV on mute and started idly flipping through the channels. They had a good selection, for out here in the country. Probably it had never occurred to one or the other of them that they _wouldn’t_ have every movie channel in England, and so here they all were. Adam left it on _Titanic_ and went back to studying Warlock.

The more he looked at him, the more his powers screamed that the boy was important. Adam couldn’t remember much of the aftermath of the Armaggedon-That-Wasn’t, but he remembered rerouting Warlock’s plane to America from Meggido. Thirty-nine flavors of ice cream, he’d thought at the time. Couldn’t top _that._ But there his awareness of Warlock had ended, and he’d moved on to other things.

Aziraphale came into the room. “Ah, the Titanic,” he said. Adam put a finger to his lips and nodded at Warlock. Aziraphale nodded. “My greatest failure,” he said, more quietly.

“You were there?” Adam asked.

“Oh yes,” Aziraphale said. “We both were. Crowley maintains he was there on official business, but I think he just wanted to see what all the fuss was about. He likes the finer things in life, you see.”

“Why were _you_ there?”

“Oh, the cook was rumored to be rather good, and anyway I’d had a bad feeling since the voyage was announced. Wanted to keep my eye on it. But in the end there wasn’t much I could do but speed up the _Carpathia_ and make the lifeboats a bit bigger.”

Adam frowned. “Really? You couldn’t just, I dunno, zap everybody out?”

Aziraphale shook his head. “My power has limits, dear boy, as does Crowley’s. We’re not like you,” he added with a smile. Adam didn’t much feel like smiling, thinking of all those people dying unnecessarily, but he scrounged one up to be polite.

Warlock woke an hour later with a snort that Adam was horrified to discover he found _adorable._ “Time ‘zit,” he gasped, rubbing his eyes.

“About three,” Adam said. “Sleep well?”

“Had a weird dream about the Titanic,” Warlock said. “Aziraphale and Crowley and you were all there.”

“Huh,” Adam said. “Sounds alright.”

Warlock stood. “I’m gonna go see if Aziraphale needs help with dinner. Want to come?”

“Uh, sure,” Adam said, standing as well. Warlock led him through to the kitchen, where Aziraphale was stirring the stew in the slow cooker.

“Can I help with anything?” Warlock asked.

Aziraphale favored him with a smile even warmer than his usual. Adam looked between them, sure he was missing something and a little put out about it. “It’s about time I got started on the bread, if you’d like to try your hand at kneading,” the angel said. “Adam, you too?”

“I’ll watch,” Adam said. “Can I have a pop?”

“In the fridge door, dear,” Aziraphale said, nodding at it. “Help yourself.” Warlock crossed to the sink and started washing his hands.

Adam watched as Aziraphale walked Warlock through putting the ingredients into the mixer. “You _can_ knead by machine,” he said once the dough was out, “but I’ve always preferred doing it by hand. Much more satisfying.” It _looked_ satisfying. Warlock clearly didn’t have much by way of muscles, and he’d worked up a sweat by the time Aziraphale proclaimed the dough ready for proving.

They hung out in the kitchen while the dough rose; Warlock washed his face and threw a sardonic look at Adam, presumably at his own weakness. Mostly Adam just wished he’d helped. Aziraphale puttered around cleaning things and shooting the odd question at the boys. “And how are your friends?” he asked Adam at one point.

“Good, yeah,” Adam said. “Haven’t seen much of Brian lately, he’s busy with the new job, but everyone’s good.” None of the Them remembered the Apocalypse almost happening. Adam felt a little lonely around them sometimes, but they were still his best friends. “What about you, Warlock?” he asked. “How are your friends?”

Aziraphale threw him a warning look, over his shoulder where Warlock couldn’t see. Warlock himself just looked uncomfortable. “Fine, I guess,” Warlock said. Then, looking surprised at himself, he went on, “I don’t, um. Have any friends, I suppose, not _really._ Just people I go to school with.”

When Adam looked back at Aziraphale, the angel’s mouth was pressed into a thin little line. “That’s fine,” Adam said. “I wouldn’t be friends with Pepper and Wensley and Brian if they were only people I went to school with. People you just go to school with are overrated.” He leaned over and pushed Warlock’s shoulder gently. “‘Sides, you’ve got me now. I’m a great friend.”

“Yeah?” Warlock said, a tentative smile on his face. “Have you got references?”

“Three of ‘em,” Adam said, grinning. “I’ll put you in touch, gimme your phone.”

While Adam programmed his number into Warlock’s phone and Warlock sent him a this-is-my-number text, Aziraphale pulled the dough out of the oven. “Doubled in size, excellent,” he said. “Adam? Warlock? Do one of you want to help knock it back?”

Adam gestured for Warlock to go ahead. Warlock washed his hands again and stepped up to the counter.

Once the bread was re-proved, shaped and baked, Aziraphale pronounced the stew done and went off to fetch Crowley for dinner. Adam and Warlock set the table. “It smells _amazing_ in here,” Warlock said, sniffing the air.

“I never thought I’d be hungry again after lunch, but you’re right, it does smell good,” Adam said.

It tasted as good as it smelled, he discovered ten minutes later as he dug in. “This bread is really good,” he said to Warlock after swallowing his first bite. He cast about for things his mum said after baking bread. “The, uh, gluten is really well-formed, I can tell.”

Warlock laughed at him, but he blushed too. Adam felt a familiar swooping in his stomach that had nothing to do with sated hunger.

That night, as he lay in bed, he opened the photo album on his phone and scrolled to a picture of him and Wensleydale, arms slung over each other’s shoulders. No, there was that swoop again. He still felt for Wensley the same way he had at the start of the day. But now there was Warlock, too. This would require some thought.

——

 _Adam:_ hey guys, this is warlock, he’s demanding references before he’ll be my friend

 _Pepper:_ he’s shite, run while you can

 _Adam:_ rude

 _Brian:_ aw, come on pep, adam’s great. always game for anything, is our adam

 _Pepper:_ fine, he’s alright i guess. if you’re into that sort of thing

 _Adam:_ what sort of thing??????

 _Warlock:_ no, i know what you mean

 _Adam:_ what does she mean????? i’m confused, you guys were supposed to sing my praises

 _Wensleydale:_ a little late in the mornings, but otherwise a model employee. great at public speaking. would hire again


	4. four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warlock: save me from the cretins at this school
> 
> Wensleydale: ‘cretins’ is a good word
> 
> Warlock: thank you
> 
> Pepper: need a rescue mission?
> 
> Warlock: what if i said yes?
> 
> Brian: anything to get out of biology
> 
> Pepper: FUCK biology
> 
> Warlock: i like biology
> 
> Pepper: bet you’re good at it too, you nerd
> 
> Warlock: nerd and proud
> 
> Wensleydale: amen
> 
> Pepper: if you’re so good at it, come visit and do my homework for me. it’s about time we all met you in person
> 
> Adam: yeah!!!!! come down
> 
> Warlock: i’ll ask

_ Warlock: _ save me from the cretins at this school

_ Wensleydale: _ ‘cretins’ is a good word

_ Warlock:  _ thank you

_ Pepper:  _ need a rescue mission?

_ Warlock:  _ what if i said yes?

_ Brian:  _ anything to get out of biology

_ Pepper:  _ FUCK biology

_ Warlock:  _ i like biology

_ Pepper:  _ bet you’re good at it too, you nerd

_ Warlock:  _ nerd and proud

_ Wensleydale:  _ amen

_ Pepper:  _ if you’re so good at it, come visit and do my homework for me. it’s about time we all met you in person

_ Adam:  _ yeah!!!!! come down

_ Warlock:  _ i’ll ask

——

Warlock sat in the backseat, thankful for once that his father had insisted on driving. His mind was whirring too much to concentrate on the road, thinking about finally meeting Pepper and Brian and Wensleydale after months of texting.

And seeing Adam again.

Every now and again, his mother tentatively acquired after any new crushes at school. He’d always said no, there was nobody. Until this last time, when he’d haltingly, painfully told her that there was a boy called Adam he’d been talking to.

He still wasn’t quite sure it was actually a  _ crush. _ He’d never had a crush before, so he had nothing to compare it to. But Adam’s hair fell into his face perfectly, the kind of casually curly that Warlock’s could never be, and his smile was crooked, and Warlock’s chest hurt every time Adam’s name popped up on his phone. So it was  _ probably  _ a crush. Close enough for rock and roll, as his father would say.

He mostly didn’t regret telling his mother about Adam, except for the fact that, when he asked if he could go to Tadfield proper for a visit, she insisted on her and his father taking him. “You’ve talked so much about Adam, I want to meet him!” she’d said with a meant-to-be-conspiratorial smile. Warlock had rolled his eyes and started plotting ways to die of embarrassment.

“Destination is on your left,” the car’s GPS trilled, jolting Warlock out of his reverie. His father slammed on the brakes, almost jolting Warlock out of his seat as well.

“Nice-looking place,” his father said, peering out the window. “What did you say the father does?”

“Dunno,” Warlock said. “Never asked.”

“I don’t see how it matters, honey,” his mother said warningly.

“Oh, I didn’t mean it  _ mattered _ what his father does. Just wondering. Let’s go.”

They piled out of the car and walked up to the door, which opened before Warlock could knock. “Hey,” Adam said.

“Hey,” Warlock echoed, grinning like an idiot. Luckily Adam was smiling too.

Adam’s parents met them in the living room, everybody introducing themselves and shaking hands. “Have we met somewhere before?” Mrs. Young asked Warlock’s mother. “Only you look so familiar. You haven’t modeled, have you?”

“You met in the hospital,” Adam supplied.

“What was that, dear?” Mrs. Young asked.

Warlock stepped in. “We were born on the same night in the same hospital. You probably met there.”

Warlock’s mother snapped her fingers. “Yes, that’s it, now I remember. Lovely to see you again! Warlock, you never told me you two had the same birthday.”

“Never came up,” Warlock said.

“Mum, can we go meet the others now?” Adam asked. “Only Warlock’s meant to help Pepper with biology, and the exam’s first thing Monday.”

“I suppose,” Mrs. Young said. “Be back for lunch, though, and preferably  _ not _ covered in mud.”

“I haven’t come home covered in mud in years,” Adam confided as he led Warlock out of the house and into the nearby woods. “But she never lets anything go.”

“Mums never do,” Warlock said. Adam laughed. Warlock’s stomach flipped over.

“We’ve been coming here ever since we were kids,” Adam said as they emerged into a clearing with some sort of lean-to in the middle. “It looks a mess but I promise it’s safe, Brian’s dad built it and he’s a wizard with building stuff.”

“It’s brilliant,” Warlock said honestly. “Never seen anything like it.”

“It was just a bunch of chairs and stuff when we were kids, but then Brian’s dad bought the land and said we could have a proper hangout spot.” Adam walked up to the door and knocked. “It’s us!” he shouted through the wood.

“Warlock!” came a chorus of voices from inside, and then the door opened and Warlock’s hand was being wrung by someone he only knew from photos. “Great to meet you, mate,” Brian said. “Come on in.”

Pepper was lounging on a ratty sofa in the corner and waved; Wensleydale came up to shake his hand too. “Pleasure to meet you,” he said.

“You too.”

“You guys never greet  _ me _ like that,” Adam said, shrugging his coat off. Warlock followed suit, hanging it on a hook by the door.

“You’re not going to stop me failing biology,” Pepper shot back. “Warlock, get over here and explain the Krebs cycle, I’m drowning.”

“Oh, the Krebs cycle’s easy,” Warlock said. “Here, let me see the book you’re using.”

Pepper was not a great student, but Warlock was persistent, and eventually she started to make genuine noises of understanding. Warlock looked up from the textbook at long last to discover that their party had halved itself. “Where have Adam and Wensleydale gone?”

“For a walk, they said,” Brian replied from where he was stretched out on the floor. “Left about half an hour ago. But it’s getting on to lunchtime.”

“I’ll go look for them,” Warlock said. “Could do with a stretch.” Brian and Pepper both nodded, and Warlock stood and left the shack.

It was quiet out in the woods, but if he listened closely he could hear a faint trace of conversation. He followed it. “...think he’ll be into it?” he heard Adam say as he approached. “I mean, what if he’s monomo- monag-”

“Monogamous,” Wensleydale said, “and it’s at least worth a try. I saw him look at you when the two of you arrived.”

Warlock’s heart was in his throat, but as he tried to take a silent step forward to listen more closely, leaves shifted underfoot and he fell flat on his rear. “Alright?” Adam said, emerging from behind a tree. He extended a hand to Warlock.

Warlock took it and hauled himself up. “Just feel a bit of a prat. Brian says it’s getting on to lunchtime.”

Adam checked his watch. “So it is.” (He hadn’t let go of Warlock’s hand. Warlock hadn’t made a move to take it back, either.)

“Do it now, Adam,” Wensleydale said. “Before you lose your nerve.”

“D’you think?” Adam asked him. “Alright.” He turned back to Warlock. “Listen, can I- we talk to you about something?”

“Alright,” Warlock said, looking between the two of them.

Adam cleared his throat. “Look, I was just saying to Wensley that, well, I really like him.”

Warlock’s stomach dropped. “Oh.”

Perhaps his disappointment showed on his face, because Adam’s eyes widened and he went on. “And,” he said, “about how I really like you, too.”

Up went Warlock’s stomach, knocking his heart back up into his throat again. Adam’s hand was still holding his. “Oh.”

“And I was thinking,” Adam went on, “I think I’d like to date both of you, at once. If you’re interested.”

Warlock looked at Wensleydale, to buy himself a few more moments. “I’m in,” Wensleydale said matter-of-factly. “You seem like a lovely person, I’m happy to have you as a metamour.”

At that point, Adam seemed to realize that they were still holding hands, because he sort of yelped and dropped Warlock’s hand like it was on fire. “So,” he said, and Warlock was delighted to discover that he was blushing. “You can say no, obviously, and we’ll still be friends, or if you want time to think about it -”

Warlock reached over and took his hand again. Adam’s mouth shut with a snap. “I don’t need to think about it,” Warlock said. “I’m in too.”

“Oh,” Adam said. He sounded a little breathless. “That’s good, then.” He looked over at Wensleydale, who was smiling, and then back at Warlock, until he was fully beaming. Warlock felt the edges of his mouth turn up and up and up, utterly helpless to do anything but grin back at his new boyfriend.

——

WD: got some news for you

AC: oh yeah? i’ve got some for you as well

WD: on three?

AC: sure. one, two, three

WD: i’m dating adam

AC: aziraphale and i are getting married

WD: WHAT

AC: WHAT


	5. epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wedding.

“Stop fussing, it’s tied straight,” Wensleydale said, tugging Adam’s hands away from his bow tie for the fifth time. “Don’t undo all my hard work.”

“Sorry,” Adam said. He looked over at Warlock, who was manfully resisting the urge to tug at his own Wensley-tied bow tie and smirking at him. Adam stuck his tongue out.

Wensley checked his watch. “Time for you two to get in position,” he said, “and for me to claim a seat.” He leaned in and kissed Adam on the cheek. “You two look wonderful, break a leg and all that, don’t fuss with your ties.” With a wave he was off, passing Newt on his way in.

“You boys ready?” Newt said. “Almost showtime.”

Adam put his hand to his pocket; from the corner of his eye he could see Warlock doing the same. The bulge of the ring box was still there, so he nodded to Newt. “We’re ready.”

Newt led them to their starting position. Aziraphale and Crowley appeared, in sparkling white and deep black suits respectively, and took their places behind them. “Ready, lads?” Crowley asked.

“Are you?” Warlock shot back. Adam heard Crowley snort. At that moment, the music started and the doors opened. Adam reached out his hand; Warlock slipped his into it. They started walking.

Anathema was waiting for them at the end, when they finally had to let go of each other and split up, Adam to Aziraphale’s side and Warlock to Crowley’s. Adam stood on his mark, a small x of tape on the ground, and looked out over the crowd. Newt, Tracy and Shadwell, Warlock’s family and his own. And Wensley, grinning from an aisle seat and, from the looks of it, already crying. At the other end of the aisle, Aziraphale and Crowley started their own walk.

The ceremony passed mostly in a blur of Bible verses and Anathema’s voice talking about a love to last through all the ages. Adam and Warlock caught their cues, presenting the rings at the right time; Warlock winked at him over Crowley’s shoulder when they were back in their spots. Finally, after what felt like a million years and ten seconds at the same time, Aziraphale and Crowley kissed, and it was time for the reception.

“Good show,” Wensley said as Adam shrugged his suit jacket off. “You were very dignified.”

“It was  _ exhausting,” _ Adam said, sinking down into a chair with a sigh. Next to him, Warlock laughed. On the dance floor, Aziraphale and Crowley were swaying slowly, gazing into each other’s eyes.

“I hope you’re not  _ too _ tired,” Warlock said, sitting down next to him. “You have two boyfriends to dance with, after all.”

Adam gave a theatrical groan, making both of them laugh. In unison, almost as if they’d rehearsed it, Warlock and Wensleydale reached out and each took one of Adam’s hands. Deep in the back recesses of his mind, Adam’s power gave a pleased little purr.  _ Yeah,  _ Adam thought to himself.  _ This’ll do. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!! I hope you liked it! Drop a comment and let me know what you thought?

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [Tumblr](http://thewalrus-said.tumblr.com) or [Twitter](http://twitter.com/thewalrus_said)!


End file.
